Our Street
by FrUK Seasons
Summary: Francis moves to an apartment in London when his job decides to transfer him. Though he's not exactly happy with the arrangement, he finds the city a little more interesting when he discovers a certain Englishman across the street...
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The streets, the buildings, the people - all so different from Francis' home of Paris. Why you may ask? He was in London. The job in which he held had basically forced him to be transferred to a work office in England, much to his dismay.

_Why London, of all places?_ He asked himself, a frown set on his face as he walked down one of the many sidewalks in the unfamiliar city, having decided he may as well see where he was to be living for however long his business stayed in the country. It was a nice place, but not nearly as breathtaking as Paris, in his opinion.

Looking up towards the sky, he noted that it would be dark soon.

_Might as well head home, then... _His heart clenched a bit. This wasn't home, not even close. He wouldn't be going _home_; he'd be going to his new apartment here in this unfamiliar place that wasn't and never would be his home.

_My heart belongs in Paris, not here. _He told himself as he walked towards the direction of his apartment, not in the mood to take a bus or taxi. Why do so, when the weather wasn't that horrid? England was known for it's rain, usually accompanied by a bitter cold. Tonight was just a bit chilly, with clear skies above. The Frenchman knew, without a doubt, he'd miss his country's pleasant weather.

Approaching the apartment building, Francis breathed a soft sigh as he looked up at it. Would he ever get used to this? To be able to refer to it as his dwelling place without experiencing the bitter feelings of missing his _real_ home?

_With a bit of work, perhaps. _His hand grasped the handle of the door, opening it and entering before ascending the stairs leading to his apartment's floor. Before too long, he was there, taking his key from his pocket and unlocking the door. His heart felt that increasingly familiar piercing pain of sadness as he flicked the light on - this room held nothing in common to his old apartment in France. Shaking away such emotions, he went into the room, closing the door behind him.

"This isn't too bad..." He said aloud, trying to comfort as well as bring assurance to himself. It wasn't horrible, not at all. But, it still felt strange, knowing this was where he'd be living for at least a year or more.

With casual steps, he walked to his bedroom, sure he'd have an issue sleeping here tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, but absolutely tonight. He knew that he needed his rest; he had work tomorrow. Removing his coat and shoes, he climbed into bed, not bothering to undress.

_Bonne nuit et au revoir Paris, bonjour Angleterre. _With those final words he closed his eyes, sleep mercifully taking him for the night.

* * *

I apologize for the short prologue ^^' I just wanted to give you guys an understanding of why France is living in London, instead of leaving you to wonder for what reason why he's just suddenly there, walking the streets. Hope you like this so far! I guarantee it'll get better with time, as then I'll be introducing Iggy~

Winter~


	2. Chapter One - A New Kind Of Prey

**Our Street**

Chapter 1;

_A New Type of Prey_

Busy. The streets of London were notibly more lively in the morning versus their late evening counterparts, as Francis learned the next day. And, as always, with more people brought more attention to the handsome Frenchman walking them. Young ladies tried their best to catch his attention, and even the men had to look twice. Some were lucky enough to receive a stunning smile or a wink in return, all of which made the admirers practically drop to their knees, forgetting their morning business.

_Whether I'm in my Country or this one, the reaction's still the same._

It was true. Despite any bitterness he might have expected from these Britons because of where he'd come from, it seemed his prior assumptions had been wrong.

_Such a pity... Even though I'm here on business, there's always times when I'm not at work. I was hoping for a challenge, but it seems I might end up playing the same game again._

Francis snapped out of his thoughts as they were interrupted by something he hadn't heard since he'd been in the apartment complex - his footsteps. The previous streets had been much too loud to hear oneself think, much less your own noise as you walked along.

_Odd... I wonder why it's so quiet here?_

Were the Frenchman's thoughts as he continued on at a slower pace, perhaps to get a better look at the place in which he'd wandered to. The street was single-laned, and held sidewalks on either side, he being on the left. Those sidewalks were surounded by buildings not unlike those that had enclosed all the other streets he journeyed that morning. It was ordinary, and perfectly usable, yet quiet and empty; like a small peice of a ghost town almost.

_Odd._

The word repeated itself inside the blonde's head as he further inspected his surroundings, only to be interrupted by the additive of something new - someone else's footsteps, a little ways behind him.

Looking back, he spotted another man, though he was on the opposite side of the street and looked to be in a hurry.

_Is he late to work, or... Perhaps he's scared of this place?_

The thought occured to Francis only once he'd realized the place could be seen as spooky by someone, though it held only mystery and a strange, almost captivating beauty to him.

However, no matter how interesting a scenery, the blonde's attention was temporarily captured by the Englishman on the other side of the street. First to be noticed were his unmistakably large eyebrows, only made more prominent by the scowl on his face. Next was his dirty blonde hair, the way in which it stood out being how messy it appeared, as if he'd just rolled out of bed and simply dressed himself with no care for said mussy locks. But lastly, and most curiously, was the fact he hadn't spared the other even one glance. That in itself was enough to make Francis gaze in wonder - he was not used to such treatment by anybody, much less this messy little Englishman. But, before the blonde even had a chance to call out to the other man, or make a move to cross the street for an introduction, the Briton was gone.

A sudden thought flashed into Francis' mind as he quickened his pace in an attempt to relocate the mysterious young man - _What if I never see him again? _An odd feeling presented itself, letting him know that most certainly wasn't a option. If not today, he'd see him again the next. At least, he hoped so.

_Maybe I've found myself in a new game after all._

The thought made him smile. A game of chase was certainly more entertaining than what everyone else was offering. Was a predator more satisfied after a hunt, or when the prey was dropped at it's paws? Undoubtably the prior.

* * *

Sorry for the delay in getting out this first chapter! I've been really busy with schoolwork, a new puppy, and, well... Life _ I promise I'll be trying harder to get these posted sooner for a better reading experience. Reviews are welcome and encouraged!

Winter~


	3. Chapter Two - To Find a Ghost

**Our Street**

Chapter 2;

To Find a Ghost

That Englishman… He seemed to be a constant thought on Francis's mind. Just as quickly as the man had appeared, he was gone, lost in the crowd of people that walked the busy streets of London.

_Where could he have gone..? _He asked himself, blue eyes still searching, but to no avail.

_Surely you can't lose someone with eyebrows like his – you can see them from a mile away. _His hope of a new game was dwindling, as without that messy-haired man, such a thing was not possible. Everyone else was just too submissive; too _easy._

_People don't just disappear. Either he's went out of his way to hide from me, or he' some sort of ghost. _The thought actually drew a smile to the Frenchman's lips. A ghost, here in London? And at that, such a peculiar one… No – the person he'd seen was much too real. Surely no ghost would catch _his_ attention like that messy Briton had. Plus, who believed in spirits anyhow? Wayward men and women seeking peace after death; not likely.

_He's around somewhere… I'm sure he's just- _There, he'd found him, enormous brows and all, walking at a more casual pace than he before. Perhaps that street really had scared him?

_Or… Maybe it was I who was the cause of his uncomfortable demeanor? _ The thought struck him when he realized maybe, just maybe, no one but that Briton had passed through that area for as long as he'd traveled it.

_Then again, it's possible he can tell I'm French just by looking at me. _A chuckle was drawn from his lips at that, as it'd be rather humorous to him to have run into someone that had a fear of Frenchman – not that he didn't have the right to be. The French were well known for their love of love and anything affectionate, and weren't always well-liked by people who preferred to stay to themselves, as this Englishman seemed to be like. Even the way he was walking among others, staying, and maybe not even knowing it himself, further away, seemingly in his own little world, portrayed that kind of personality.

_His eyes need to be opened. It's a beautiful world we live in, so why not experience it?_ He began making his way to where the other was walking, making sure this time around he didn't lose him as he, quite casually, followed him. After a while, Francis wondered whether this man really had anywhere to be, and figured that he might just be taking a walk for the fun of it. However, eventually, the smaller blonde did stop, and at a bus stop at that.

_So he does have somewhere to be... A job perhaps? _The idea reminded him of his own occupation, and suddenly he was very glad it was a bus stop this little Englishman had ended their walk at.

_Merde… How could I have forgotten like that? _Being late to his first day of work here in London likely wouldn't leave a good impression of him to his boss nor his fellow co-workers. He had truly been captivated for the length of time he'd secretly pursued the other, and it shocked him to the point of disbelief. Why? He'd never done that before, unless he wanted something from them, and though he had originally, his thoughts had strayed to ones of a purer mindset.

_I wanted to learn his name, but I need to get to work… _He cursed under his breath, frustrated by the lack of leisure he had to possess. Then again, if they were to ride the same bus, why not make conversation now? Stepping up beside the messy-haired man, he hummed softly, retaining a casual persona.

"Bonjour~ Lovely day for a walk, oui?" He started, hoping that his words had been enough to get the Englishman to say something. He truly wanted to hear what his voice sounded like - did it go along with how he looked?

After a small, rather awkward silence, and some shifting from the younger blonde as he was clearly uncomfortable, he let his emerald gaze move to see exactly who was talking to him. Whoever it was, he was definitely French, as easily heard by his accent and choice of words. Blinking, Arthur realized with a bit of surprise that this was the man from before, the one walking his street. The one he'd most definitely noticed, but had altogether ignored as he just hadn't known how else to respond. Calling out to this Frenchman would have been absolutely awkward, and he figured, maybe if he didn't look at him, he would be less likely to appear as if he was _trying_ to evade him.

_Look as if you're late to work… It won't be odd – everyone else is in a hurry. _That's what he had told himself, and it seemed that the effort had been in vain. Rethinking the scenario, he realized he _should've _acted hostile perhaps, to get this Frenchie to quit his staring and bugger off. But, it wasn't too late; he was talking to him now. Perfect opportunity to tell him off, right? Almost immediately after thinking this, his expression soured, and his eyes narrowed.

"I guess you could say that, though I'd expect you to enjoy the rain more, being a frog and all." Arthur replied, words spoken so casually, though there was an audible bitterness attached.

The chosen response by the Londoner surprised Francis, as he hadn't expected such a harsh reply. Then again… The Englishman's expression earlier on that street should've given away the fact that this man wasn't one to be taken lightly. He had pride, like any respectful citizen of London, though it seemed despite this deep-rooted stubbornness, many others had fallen victim to Francis's charm.

_Not this one… At least, not yet._ The Frenchman's mindset shot back to his game of seduction, the Briton's immediate insult making him feel as if he _needed_ to conquer this man, just to wipe that small smirk off his face.

"You're one to talk. Surely with that dreary attitude of yours, you help bring on the rain that so heavily befalls this country." Was Francis's retort, already seeing a reaction in the other as his bushy brows knit together, fists clenching a bit in anger.

"What was that you just said?" Arthur asked, the forest green depths that were his eyes flashing as they sent themselves heatedly on the taller blonde.

"You heard exactly what I said."

At that, it was apparent Arthur couldn't hold back his temper, quick to unleash it on this stranger. How dare he walk up to him just to set him off?

"Did you come over here just to ruin my morning? If that's the most you can make out of your day, you truly are pathetic! A typical Frenchman."

Now that; that was crossing the line.

"A typical Frenchman? Well what happened to the typical Englishman?! I see no manners from you." Francis hissed in reply, his own ocean blue orbs locked angrily on the green before him.

"I don't see what it was I did wrong, asking a simple question. You're the one who turned basic conversation into an argument."

Arthur had no response to that, as it was true. He had been the one to turn a innocent conversation into whatever it had exploded into. But, there was no way in hell he was about to admit that to this Frenchman. No. Fucking. Way.

So instead, he stayed quiet, having moved his gaze to instead stare blankly at the road, paying no mind to the traffic, people, and especially the person next to him.

The silence grew more and more awkward, to the point where both men felt they could hardly last a second longer when the bus finally arrived. Both of them boarded it, though Arthur sat in the very back, whereas Francis chose to stay near the front – neither wanted to be near each other.

_Little bastard… Maybe I was wrong to even think for a second someone who attempted to ignore me would be interesting. Clearly, that means they're either crazy or a complete and utter ass. _Francis silently ranted to himself, mad that he'd failed so miserably with this Englishman. Worst part was, he was stuck passing him every morning on his way to work, on that little, empty street. And, they rode the same bus – how lovely.

He consoled himself with the thought that maybe this was just today – if the two ignored each other, forgetting their meeting and went on with their lives, this meant nothing; just a bump in the road. Problem was, the blonde Englishman was now on Francis's mind, and it was beginning to dawn on him he didn't exactly want to forget.

* * *

Phew! Long chapter, but I finally did update. I'm going between three fics right now, trying to update all of them... God is it time consuming. But, don't worry! This one is currently my main priority, as it will be my first fanfic that I will attempt to make long. Yes, it takes quite some time, but the read is worth it - I hope. Thanks for any reviews you may want to give!

Winter~


End file.
